The Prince and The Pauper
by The Abominable Snow Monster
Summary: Ichigo is a streetrat. Kaien is an engaged prince. When they trade places, Ichigo meets Lady Rukia and life takes a turn for the interesting. But what happens when he does not want to return to the streets? IchixRukixKaien KaienxMiyako, some OrixIchi
1. All The King's Men

1**Full Summary:** Kurosaki Ichigo is a street rat in ancient London. Shiba Kaien is a prince engaged to be married to Baroness Miyako. When the two meet by chance and agree to trade places, Ichigo meets Lady Rukia, a noble who harbors secret feelings for Kaien, and suddenly his life takes a turn for the interesting. Ichigo must be careful not to damage Kaien's image, and to play the part of the affianced prince...but what happens when he doesn't want to return to life on the streets?

**A/N: **This is not an exact replica of Mark Twain's The Prince and the Pauper. I've altered some things to suit the characters and the storyline better. For example, can you picture Kaien saying "how dar'st thou use a poor lad like that? How dar'st thou use the King my father's meanest subject so?" No? Neither could I. So it's written with modern language, and Ichigo still uses "Oi" and "Che" because they fit him so darn well, even though the setting is in England. The characters _are_ nearly perfect parallels of Twain's: for example, the pauper's name in the literature is "Tom Canty", and Tom has two younger twin sister, Bet and Nan. Ichigo also has two younger twin sisters. I thought that was neat. So kindly read and review, and I hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Bleach, and certainly don't own Mark Twain's The Prince and the Pauper

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**The Prince and The Pauper  
**_By: The Abominable Snow Monster_

The hand of Midas had touched the foliage of London's trees, ripening them to a burnished gold as Autumn stole across England. Gemstone-colored leaves seemed brighter against the black backdrop of tree trunks: sunset Agates; dark, yellow topazes; fiery rubies. The skies had softened to a dour grey, blushing in places where the sun almost penetrated the cloud cover. A peppermint-flavored chill had sneaked into the air, and the breeze was scented with the smell of corded wood, coal, and drying summer spices.

Kuchiki Rukia leaned against the doorjamb to Shiba Kaien's bedroom, rapping her knuckles against the granite wall impatiently.

"Kaien!" She called sharply. "Lady Miyako is here to see you." She waited a heartbeat before notching her voice louder. "Kaien! Did you hear me?" She gave Kaien's chambers a once-over, noting with exasperation the unbeaten nap of the hand-loomed Persian rug; the cloth-bound volumes of Sophocles and Faust scattered at the bedside; and the ink pots, papers, and crow quill pens littering the polished desktop. Organized chaos.

"Kaien?" She ventured, pushing away from the doorframe. She glanced curiously at the unmade bed: empty. The fresh clothes laid out by Sentarou and Kiyone were still pressed and folded: unused. Rukia bit her lip, a frown dimpling her forehead. "Kaien?" She asked the vacant room uneasily. Silence.

A movement caught her eye, and she noticed a white paper pinned to the desktop, fluttering frantically in the breeze like moth's wings. Rukia tore the paper off the table, her scowl deepening as she read Kaien's copperplate hand:

_Don't wait up for me_

"Bastard!" She whispered fiercely.

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The surface of the horse trough looked like a glass plate dipped in algae and dotted with brown leaves. Shiba Kaien cupped the scummy water in his hands, listening to it dribble slowly through the creases of his fingers. The brisk air had nipped his nose and cheeks red and bitten through his velvets. He took his cap off and dipped it in the trough, then wrung it out, watching the water droplets make ripples in the glass-plate surface.

Though the sun hadn't yet had time to evaporate the beads of condensation that clung to cold metal door handles and railings, the city was already alive with the shouts of children, the chatter of men, and the sounds of shutters banging, sheets flapping, and the ringing of a blacksmith's tools.

Kaien brought his wet, numbed hands to his lips and blew on them, rubbing circulation back into the fingers. He struggled to his feet, tugging his damp cap low over his forehead and stamping mud from the soles of his boots. By now, they'd have discovered his note—it wouldn't be long until he was dragged back to the castle.

But he'd be damned if he didn't go without a fight.

Kaien braced one hand against the trough's lip, locking his arm and vaulting over it. He landed on his feet, straightened. The Prince tightened his lips into a line, frowning slightly as he surveyed the Cheapside alley with a critical eye. Two-story stone buildings were spiderwebbed with cracks and water-bleached; copper-colored streaks of rust stained the bricks beneath iron window sills, and handmade wooden signs were faded with abuse; the packed dirt street smelled strongly of urine, smoke, and unwashed bodies: It was perfect.

Kaien heard a sudden symphony of horseshoes clattering over cobblestones and a swell of shouts. He glanced back over his shoulder, his heart jackhammering in his chest. Kaien slowly exhaled, his quiet breath hanging like a pearl fog in the frosty air. _All the King's horses and all the King's men, eh? _He thought with a wry smile. They were already in Cheapside.

Kaien ducked through an open stone archway in a nearby building, watching as a Brougham decorated with the King's insignia rattled past. He waited until he could no longer see the carriage in the alley's open mouth, then blew air out of his cheeks, slumping against the wall and slowly sliding to the ground.

"Oi. Asshole." Kaien stiffened and looked up, noticing that the half-shadows in the chamber did not entirely conceal the lean outline of a boy, maybe fifteen or seventeen. He sat on a hay bale in the dusky corner, elbows resting on spread-eagled knees, fingers tented. Mud matted the hemlines of his jute pants and the soles of his bare feet; the laces at the neckline of his poet's shirt were untied, and the shirt hung loosely over an athletic frame, the sleeves pushed up to the elbows. "What do you think you're doing?"

Kaien removed his cap, running his fingers through his dark hair before snugging the hat over his head again. "Hiding, idiot," he said tersely. "What's it look like?"

"It _looks _like you're trespassing," the boy shot back.

"Beg your pardon," the Prince said in a saccharine-sweet voice. He stood up slowly, stealing a look down the alley: a court officer was standing in the mouth of the passageway, holding a rolled-up piece of parchment. He was speaking to a man in tatty clothes who gestured toward the water trough. The officer glanced down the alley uncertainly, then gave a curt nod and clapped the man on the shoulder. Kaien quickly flattened himself against the wall, marking his exits. The only door was the stone archway he'd entered through: he was trapped.

"What's the matter with you?" The boy asked.

"I need your help." Kaien whispered.

"Che. Why should I help you?" He gave the prince a quick up-and-down. "Who are you hiding from, anyway?"

"I am the Prince of England," Kaien explained, sotto voce.

The boy snorted. "Nice to meet you, Prince. I'm the queen of Babylonia."

"You want proof?" Kaien snapped. "Look outside. There's a court official searching for me."

The boy met his stare evenly. There was a long moment of unblinking silence. Then the boy unlaced his fingers and palmed the back of his neck, pushing off of the hay bale quietly and crossing the room. He looked outside, then pinned Kaien's eyes again. "So?'

Kaien twisted a ring off his forefinger, holding it up to the light tumbling in through the arch. "The King's crest." He said. "Convinced?"

The boy shrugged, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms. "You're the Prince. Congratulations."

Kaien raised his eyebrows, silently approving--the kid was no pushover. He considered for a moment, then offered his hand. "Shiba Kaien," he said. He waited, hand suspended in the air. The boy made no move to shake it. "I promise a reward if you'll help me," he tempted.

"What would I do with money?"

Kaien hesitated again, notching the boy higher in his esteem. "Not money," he tendered. "Adventure."

The boy eyes flickered down to the hand, then back up to Kaien's face. Outside, Kaien could hear the official shouting to the carriage driver. Dewdrops of sweat formed on the Prince's brow despite the brisk temperature. "Please," he said stiffly. The boy shrugged again, then took the hand.

"Kurosaki Ichigo," he traded. The two locked eyes.

A slight, Cheshire smile curved Kaien's lips. "Thanks," he said softly. Then he dropped his hand, altering his tone. "Take off your clothes," he ordered.

Ichigo's eyes widened. "Pervert."

"Shut up. I need them," the Prince said. "You'll switch clothes with me to distract the officers."

Ichigo frowned. "You really think they'll fall for that?"

"Believe me," Kaien looked up from unbuttoning his satin shirt. "They're not as smart as you'd think."

He finished unfastening his shirt, shrugging out of it and tossing on the floor. He kicked off his boots and stepped out of his pants, grabbing the raggy jute Ichigo had abandoned on the floor. The Prince finished snugging the pants around his narrow waist and looked up to see Ichigo fastening the mother-of-pearl buttons at his wrists. The pauper stooped, picking up his tattered poet's shirt and tossing it to the Prince. "Put it on," he suggested. "It's cold."

But Kaien wasn't listening. His fingers tightened on the fraying shirt unconsciously, eyes narrowed in catlike curiosity, eyebrows knitted and lips parted in amazement.

"What?" Ichigo bit out.

Kaien turned his head slightly, but his eyes remained fixed on the boy's face. "Who are you?" He asked slowly.

"Kurosaki Ichigo," the boy said irritably, pulling at the sleeve of the glossy shirt. "I told you already."

"Are you related to the royal family?"

"No!"

Kaien shook his head, tugging the poet's shirt over goosebump-pricked skin and tying the laces. "You look just like me," he said, his voice edged with disbelief.

"No, I don't," Ichigo said uncomfortably, scratching the back of his head. "You're uglier."

Kaien's eye twitched. "Watch it," he growled. He wiped his forehead with the shirtsleeve, accidentally smearing dirt across the pale skin. "If you go out there," he said carefully, "they won't be able to tell the difference." He looked Ichigo in the eye. "They'll take you back to the castle."

"You're giving me a chance to back out."

"It will be the last chance you get." Kaien replied simply.

Ichigo looked at the Brougham in the entrance to the alleyway, the daylight haloing his orange hair; his long eyelashes; his lips. The gold-gilded carriage seemed surreally out of place in Cheapside. It seemed alien. It seemed intense. But mostly it seemed different. The silk of the Prince's shirt felt velvety-soft and slippery, like the greasy water at Gloucester Lake, sliding over his skin, rolling away from his hands. It felt too-tight. It felt stifling. But mostly it felt different. "Adventure," he repeated thoughtfully. He tore his eyes away from the carriage. "I'm not backing out."

Kaien nodded his understanding. "Your hair is too light," he mused. He threw his velvet cap to Ichigo, who caught it in one hand, then examined it inquisitively. "Hide your hair with that. Now, go!" When Ichigo paused, he raised his voice. "_Go!"_

Ichigo jammed the hat over his hair and stumbled out of the archway, looking first left, then right. Inside, Kaien sank to the floor, pulling his legs up to his chest and rubbing the chill out of his shoulders. The freed Prince crossed his arms over his knees, rested his forehead on them. Outside, the court official gave a cry. Kaien's heart quickened painfully, blood thrumming in his ears, and he found himself counting his heartbeats. _Onetwothreefourfive. _The boy replied: a murmur too low to be caught. _Nineteneleven. _The horse snorted. The carriage groaned. _Fifteensixteenseventeen. _The horseman's whip cracked, echoing like a gunshot through the narrow passageway. _Twentytwenty-one. _There was a flurry of pidgeon wings outside, beating the still air in panic. _Twenty-twotwenty-three. _The carriage wheels groaned against their axels, then squeaked. Horsehooves. Horsehooves against stone. _Twenty-four. _Silence. _Twenty-five._

They were gone.

Kaien did not chance a look outside. He frowned to himself, repeated the boy's name softly, then sighed.

"Godspeed."  
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**A/N: **The first chapter is short and awkward with way too many words and way too little dialogue: I know -_cringes_- I'm very sorry! It was very difficult to write this chapter, but I'm positive that future chapters will not be as hard, and I PROMISE they'll be more interesting. There will be alot of obligations flying around: Kaien is engaged to Lady Miyako, but Ichigo doesn't know that. Hm. Poor kid. Plus, Rukia has feelings for Kaien, though she can't admit it. And then there's other matters...Like the fact that Ichigo can't read or write. It's the perfect setup for some awkward situations, and beaucoup humor and romance. I hope you like it! Please R&R


	2. Blackbird Pie

**A/N:** As you may have noticed, the chapter titles have little or nothing to do with the chapter. They're just pieces of riddles or rhymes that have to do with Kings or Princes, etc. Originally, the birds that take off from Kaien's windowsill in this chapter were European Starlings, but I thought later that blackbirds would be more fitting.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Bleach, nor do I own "The Prince and the Pauper"

**Genre:** Romance, Drama, Action/Adventure, Humor—in order according to prominence.

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**The Prince and The Pauper  
**_By: The Abominable Snow Monster_

Chapter II: Blackbird Pie

_Sing a song of sixpence,  
__A pocket full of rye;  
__Four and twenty blackbirds  
__Baked in a pie.  
__When the pie was opened,  
__The birds began to sing;  
__Was not that a dainty dish  
__To set before the King?_

The castle grounds were as still and silent as a morning mass compared to the stir of the city. At nine o' clock, just after the heather-colored fingers of dusk had faded into black and the first star had been wished upon, mists settled over the moors. The mists were as delicate and white as a bride's gauze veil, and the windows of the few rooms that were still lit glowed amber—not unlike flecks of gold sewn into the nuptial veil.

The movements on the grounds at night were slow, quiet, and smooth, like the ghost of Hamlet's father: the light-footed glide of the watch guards at the parapets; the gentle, subtle gestures of the servants, as gossamer as a muslin sheet flapping in a lazy breeze; the white, dainty wave of the queen's hand as she dismissed a lady-in-waiting. Suddenly, two blackbirds erupted into flight, the clamor of frantically-flapping wings shattering the easy, quiet, Sunday feel of the moors. A watch guard below paused in his glide. He wrinkled his nose, staring at the dark silhouettes the blackbirds made against the moon as they struggled in the airless night and wondering what had caused their panicked flight from their perch on Prince Kaien's windowsill.

Had he been closer to the leftmost turret on the third story---the Prince's chambers---he might have heard what drove the birds away: the scrape of a fork against a plate; the heavy thunk of a chalice on wood; the click of a bottle's neck against the lip of the goblet, followed by the short slosh of wine into a cup; and bickering. But the guard was not closer, so he simply inhaled, shaking his head slowly and quietly and smoothly, and turning to watch over the fogged moors.

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Looking out from the third story in the leftmost turret, the mist gathers thickly over the ground, highlighted in silvery-white moonlight. The sky is often cloudless at night, as black as a coalmine and peppered with diamond-like stars. The effect is that the palace is resting on a cloud in the heavens, which made Ichigo laugh the first night he looked out the window of Prince Kaien's chambers, because as a child he'd been _scolded _for "building castles in the air".

But Ichigo was too busy devouring his supper to mull over the beauty of the nighttime moors. He snatched at the loaf of bread, the honey-coated crust sticking to cold hands as he tore off a piece and crammed it into his mouth, swallowing before he'd bothered to chew. He grabbed the chalice and brought it to his lips, taking a drag of wine before he set it down again, his sticky fingers leaving five smudges on the polished metal.

Rukia's lip curled up in disgust as she watched Ichigo attack the lamb chop, white-knuckling his fork. He paused to chew openly, and Rukia winced, turning away. "Kaien…that's disgusting."

Ichigo glared at her, swallowed the lamb chop, and said: "Did you just come to rag on me?" He dropped the fork and picked up the goblet, swilling the wine around in it. "Besides, shouldn't you show more respect to the Prince or something?"

Rukia quirked an eyebrow. "You want me to grovel?"

"It's a start," he shot back. Ever since he'd met the raven-haired noble for the first time yesterday---when she'd still been sore that Kaien had run away without telling her---she'd been a pain in the ass.

(f)(l)(a)(s)(h)(b)(a)(c)(k)

_"Lady Rukia Kuchiki to see you." Ichigo had looked up in surprise, turning away from the window and leaning against the wall. _

_The words "Show her in" had barely dropped from his lips before the slender noble swept in imperiously. After a lifetime of stains, filth, dirt-smudged faces, rags, mud, shades of brown, and gutters in Cheapside, there had been something positively exotic about skin so ivory-white and hair so ebony-black. Lady Kuchiki had curtsied to the manservant with an unusual smile that seemed as sweet and poisonous as foxglove. _

_  
"A moment with the Prince, please?" She'd asked the manservant in a sugar-coated voice that turned Ichigo's stomach. He hoped Kaien wasn't friends with her._

_The manservant bowed obligingly, slipping sideways through the double doors. He placed one hand on each door handle and closed them with a theatrical _cra-ack

_Lady Kuchiki had instantly lost the haughty tilt to her head, turning her indigo eyes to Ichigo. Something in the way she held herself lightly and the aristocratic look in her _royal _blue irises had made Ichigo feel inferior. _

_He _hated _feeling inferior._

_"Oi. What do you want?"_

_Ichigo heard the smack of flesh against flesh before he felt the sting in his cheek or registered her movement. She'd punched him. The bitch had punched him. Ichigo clapped a hand to his face, scowling. _

_When she spoke again, her voice was no longer candied; it was young, alto, and authoritative:_

_"Fool." _

"I came to tell you that the Baroness Miyako is here," Rukia announced, shattering his reverie. "She arrived two days ago." Her brows knotted. "While you were gone."

Ichigo raised the goblet to his lips, frowning. "Miyako…?" He repeated, lost.

Rukia raised her eyebrows, staring at him expectantly. "Miyako," she said. "Your fiancée."

Ichigo choked, spurting wine over the honey-dipped bread, braised lamb, and butter-spice leeks.

"Ah, yes," Rukia said dryly, "I thought you'd remember."

Ichigo pushed the platter away, seeming not to notice. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Fiancée?"

"Don't play dumb, Kaien."

Ichigo shot her an irritated look. "Are you always the bearer of bad news?"

Rukia shrugged, delicately picking at the part of the bread that was still dry. "You've never taken exception to the baroness before." She chewed thoughtfully, swallowed, and fixed him with her childishly large eyes. "Are you alright?" She asked seriously. "You've been acting differently since you got back."

"I'm fine," Ichigo snapped. "Quit eating my dinner."

"You're grumpy," she persisted. But Ichigo could tell from the way her eyes were dancing that she only teasing him now.

"Go away," he grumbled.

Rukia tore another piece of bread away, stuffing it in her mouth insolently and fixing him with a stare that clearly read: _I'm eating your dinner. Whatcha gonna do about it?_

Ichigo tried to run his hands through his hair irritatedly, remembering just as his fingertips brushed against velvet that he was still wearing Kaien's hat. He dropped his hand to his neck, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. "It's _late_," he said, articulating the "t" especially well so Rukia would know she'd worn out her welcome.

Rukia rolled her eyes, licking honey from her fingertips. "You're a brat." She leaned over the desk to grab the wine bottle, shaking it to judge how much alcohol was left in it. "You

know the ball is in three weeks?" She held the bottle up to the candelabra and squinted at the pale liquid, finally giving a neck-or-nothing shrug and raising the bottle to her lips.

"What ball?" Ichigo asked in a bored voice, still staring at the ceiling.

"Honestly, Kaien!" Rukia cried, setting the wine down on the table. "How can you forget?" Sighing, the noble propped one elbow on the table, narrowing her eyes at him, and touching her upper lip insightfully. "Are you sure there's nothing on your mind?"

"Yes." Ichigo said shortly. "Quit pestering me. What about a ball, again?"

Rukia leaned back in her chair, twining her fingers behind her head. "The one preceding your marriage to Baroness Miyako," she said. Then she inclined her face towards him with a sly smile. "That's your fiancée, in case you've forgotten again."

"Very cute," Ichigo said scornfully. He reached out broodingly with one hand, rotating the goblet. The chalice reflected the chambers like the back of a metal spoon, warping his image in the bright metal. The reflected Ichigo rippled in the grain of the silver as he turned the cup round and round. "I don't know how to dance," he said uncomfortably.

Rukia smiled maliciously. "I know. I'm looking forward to it."

Heat gathered to Ichigo's cheeks. He continued twirling the cup. "You know how to dance." He muttered, carefully staring at the goblet.

Rukia's eyes widened in surprise and the fingers behind her head slipped, untwining themselves. Then the shock disappeared and the foxglove smile reappeared: sweet and poisonous. "Kaien..."

Ichigo's face was flaming. "You could teach me how to dance."

Rukia leaned forward slowly. Smiling. She propped her elbow on the desk, cupping her cheek. She said nothing.

"I'm not asking you," Ichigo said briskly, his face hot, hot, hot. He knew he was blushing furiously, and he knew it was only making the situation worse. "I'm ordering you." He tried to sound authoritative. "As the Prince of England."

"Oh, I see. You're twisting my wrist," she said wryly. "And if I refuse?"

"I'll have you hung," Ichigo said sarcastically.

"Looks like I don't have much of a choice," she teased. "Ah, the perks of tyrannies." She stood suddenly, and Ichigo flattened his palm over the mouth of the cup, startled by the abrupt change in mood. He tilted the chalice until he could see her reflection in the cup. She was facing the double doors, her back to him.

"Meet me at noon under the aspen in the castle gardens. And Kaien..."

Ichigo looked up. Rukia turned her head to the side, giving him a sidelong glance. "Don't make me wait."

Ichigo "hmph"-ed and returned his attention to the chalice. "Does this mean you're leaving, finally?"

"I'm tired," Rukia said loftily. "And you're out of bread." Another foxglove smile. "I'll see you tomorrow."

There was a short sound of heavy metal dragged across wood as Ichigo repositioned the goblet to watch the noble leave. He waited until the doors were shut before standing up and moving to the window. He looked down at the mists flapping lazily over the moors, creeping at the palace walls. He looked up to the coalmine sky, where stars sparkled like diamonds in the black. A castle in the air. He crossed his arms over the windowsill, leaning outside, letting the brisk wind cool his hot, blushing face. Castle in heavens his ass.

He was in _Hell_.

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**Orider: **Thanks! I had another plan for a similar story which I actually liked better than this one, but it required too much research, and I'm shirking my duties as it is. I'm so glad you reviewed..  
**Ruuki: **Your review made me smile. Thanks so much! I had this chapter written about a week and a half ago, but I almost didn't put it up at all.  
**Tsubasa Aska: **I have a plot to this story outside of the usual "fluff". I'm going to have to change the categories all around, because there will be some action/adventure in there. Thanks for reviewing!  
**Alive-and-Well: **I finally decided to put out chapter two..It was a little more fun than chapter one. By the way, I'd like to thank you for reading the Author's Note. Just ramblings, mainly, but sometimes I put stuff in there that worth reading. Please keep reading!  
**Multiturtle: **Thanks! Your compliments inspired me to finish chapter two. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.  
**Mochi Rabbit: **I hope to complicate things even more by bringing in other characters: Orihime and Renji, etc. Plus, there are some neat angles that I want get in to later with relationships. And then there's a conspiracy..but I'm getting ahead of myself. Thank you so much for reviewing!  
**Evalora: **I was disappointed with this story's reception until I read your review. Thank you! There will be two storylines with this, one following the romances with the upcoming ball, etc, and another one---an action/adventure storyline that has to do with a conspiracy surrounding the throne. And Ichigo's caught in the middle of it all. I hope you liked this chapter1  
**Garnet-stone: **Thanks. You have no idea what a relief it is to hear that Ichigo and Kaien were not out of character. That was one of the biggest issues I struggled with---these are two characters who have never met (obviously) in the anime, and they haven't showed too much of Kaien on TV...  
**Sousi: **Thanks! Your review made me laugh. I haven't started working on chapter three yet, but I have some fun ideas. I hope you like them.  
**Chibi milktea: **I'm really, really glad you like it. You guys have been a big support for me in writing this story. I hope you like what I've got planned. Thanks for reviewing.

**A/N: **The end seemed a little abrupt, but if I worked any longer on the chapter, I'd probably have forgetten about it. I'm not sure if everyone knows the saying "building castles in the air", but it generally means daydreaming. And the treacly-sweet poison "digitalis" is extracted from a plant called foxglove. I figured the interactions between Rukia and Kaien would be a lot like the ones between Rukia and Ichigo, since Kaien and Ichigo are so much alike. There are some anachronisms I was afraid people might question me about—like the fact that the Brougham carriage wasn't invented until the 1800s, and the feudal era was more around the 1500-1600s. Please let me know what you thought about the chapter.


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